


Alter

by alexanderendrone



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 22:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20443943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderendrone/pseuds/alexanderendrone
Summary: A chance meeting in an alleyway.





	Alter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fic for my BNHA/My Hero Academia OC, Atlas.

He was standing across from her, lazily smoking a cigarette. His pose was relaxed, unnaturally so, and his voice flat. The alleyway was dark, and she tried not to think about the moldy wall pressed against her back, or the unusual dampness near her left foot.

"My quirk," he started, a sluggish drawl. "Is I can make anyone disappear."

He pulls a gun at this statement, waving it candidly, as if she wasn't terrified, as if she wasn't going to die, as if this was just a casual conversation with a friend. The cigarette fell from his lips and his hand flicked out to catch it, and how could someone so tired looking move so _fast_.

He seemed in his element now, the gun looking so natural in his hand, his posture, his tone, the look in his eye, it all came together to paint the picture of someone who's done this before, and will most certainly do it again.

"To make my quirk work," he continued, with the slightest twitch of his lip, "I put a bullet into your heart. Then I make a phone call. After this phone call, you disappear. Like you never existed, your body, your _existence_... is _disposed_ of." His face pulls into an ugly sneer, before it settles back into that tired mask.

"You disappear." He reiterates, too flat to sound smug but with still a note of something in his voice, daring her to argue. He settles back, letting the gun hang loosely at his side, before he plucks the cigarette from his lips again.

As he leisurely strolls by, as if he has all the time in the world, and maybe he _does_. He has sway with the government, with criminals, with the general people, all so easily swayed by his docile demeanor and his subtle manipulations, who's to say he _doesn't_ have some pull with the flow of time, or Lady Luck for that matter, considering how she'd just happened to run into him, and how no one's noticed them yet. He controls it all, doesn't he?

She's pulled out of her thoughts as he reaches out a hand, and oh so casually puts out his cigarette against her shoulder, leaving the slightest burn mark. He tosses it aside, into a trashcan, uncaring of if she could take it for prints or DNA. He was untouchable and she knew it.

He looks over his shoulder at her for a long moment, analytical, before carelessly tossing a thick roll of twenty dollar bills over his shoulder, straining against a thin rubber band.

"For your troubles," he deadpanned, before disappearing around the corner, the bills rolling to a stop at her feet.


End file.
